


Poker Face

by shecomesincolor_999



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shecomesincolor_999/pseuds/shecomesincolor_999
Summary: Duncan/reader playing a friendly game of strip poker. Add in bourbon to up the ante. Duncan ends up in his pretty little black boxer briefs. He underestimated his opponent. R: "Never wise to be so confident that you willingly lose track of your adversary at a given time, Shepherd." D: "It's poker, Not war."
Relationships: Duncan Shepherd & Reader, Duncan Shepherd & You, Duncan Shepherd/Reader, Duncan Shepherd/You
Kudos: 8





	Poker Face

**Author's Note:**

> This was an anonymous ask from Tumblr, thank you anon! I enjoyed writing this one.

  


It wasn’t even Midnight yet, but the house party being held where you lived at had already cleared out in favor of taking the fun to the bars downtown. It was the first weekend of the fall semester and the party was an annual tradition; third-year law school students threw it for the first-year students to ~~haze~~ welcome them. 

The house itself was a large Victorian 2-story nestled among sorority and fraternity houses, the dwelling was exclusively rented to law students. After being the designated driver for the party to get first-years from the residence halls to the house and then downtown to the bars, you were glad to return back to an empty house. The first floor of the house was littered with discarded Solo cups, beer bottles and other usual party aftermath. Being sober was punishment enough, there was no way you were also going to clean up. The only thing you were interested in was a drink in the quiet of your room and to call it a night. Just as you were about to lock the front door, it came swinging wide open and startled you so much you screamed.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry…” The face that met you was another housemate and third-year student, Duncan Shepherd, who had an empty trash can in each hand.. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought I was the only one left.”

His plain and even tone of voice is one you’d recognize anywhere, always speaking up in class and a real know-it-all. You weren’t friends with him, but due to living in the same house and having most of your classes together, you were familiar enough. Not that you had ever really put much thought into it, but he rather got on your nerves.

“Nope.” You watched him set the trash cans in the living room and start to collect more trash. “I just finished taking people downtown and I’m about to call it a night.”

“You don’t want to get this cleaned up tonight?” He raised an eyebrow at you, his crystal blue eyes intense as they focused on you. It was almost like he was judging you for not caring to help in the chore.

“I just played chauffeur to a bunch of obnoxious drunk law students, the last thing I want to do is add ‘maid’ to my resume for the night.” A roll of your eyes punctuated your stance. “This mess will be here in the morning, let someone else deal with it.”

Duncan stood staring at you as if the idea of leaving a mess was a foreign concept. Without regard for anyone but yourself, you took off up the large staircase to the second floor. Once in your room, you pull a bottle of Woodford Reserve bourbon from the bookshelf and a plastic stadium cup, pouring a decent amount. Sitting in bed, leaning back against the wall, it felt good to have some quiet and enjoy the warm spicy taste of the bourbon. Unfortunately, that only lasted a few more minutes as a loud rapping came to your door.

“It’s open!” You called, not wanting to move.

Standing on the other side was Duncan, hands clasped behind his back, looking smug as ever in pressed black pants and an untucked charcoal grey dress shirt. He was one tattered baseball hat with Greek letters on it away from looking like the other frat guys on campus.

“You were right, the mess can wait for in the morning. Thought you could use some company, mind if I join you?” He was polite enough in asking and you were too tired to argue.

“Sure. There’s another cup over there if you want any.” You held up the bottle, giving it a slight shake.

“That’s actually my drink of choice…” he says, finding the cup you had mentioned. 

Pouring yourself a refill and him his first, he took the cup and went back to the bookshelf, looking through what titles you had stacked there among other odds and ends. Taking a drink, he found a deck of playing cards and tossed them onto the bed next to you.

“Uh, excuse you?” You copped an attitude, not expecting him to throw something at you.

“Poker.” Was all he said, finishing down his drink only to take the bottle from your hand to refill his and increase the amount in your cup a good deal more. 

“Okay, Vegas Vacation…” You rolled your eyes at the random request, scooting over on the bed to give him enough room to sit with you. Sitting with your legs crossed in front of you, your plastic cup nestled there to prevent it from spilling. You open up the pack of cards and give them a good series of shuffles. “5 card draw, jokers are wild.” You declare the rules and start dealing the cards between the two of you.

“And whoever loses the hand has to take off a piece of clothing.” He added, speaking as if this was just the most casual and obvious way to play the game.

“You want to play strip poker?” You cocked an eyebrow, narrowing your gaze at the pretty brunette figuring he must be kidding. His suggestion was as lame as someone declaring they wanted to play spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven. Christ, you were a 25-year-old law student, not at a middle school party in someone’s parent’s basement hoping to see a pair of tits or someone’s penis in person for the first time. But the even expression on his face said he was serious about adding this element to the game. If this were anyone else at any other point in time, you would have already told him to fuck off and had thrown the deck of cards at his head. But something about this intrigued you. It was a Saturday night, you were bored and already feeling a good buzz from the bourbon. What the hell; you were as body positive as could be and even though he wasn’t your type he was pretty hot now that you thought about it.

Giving the cards one last shuffle, you dealt out the five cards each and set the remaining pile of cards on the bed between you. Duncan didn’t appear to be the kind of guy who would be good at poker, you pegged him for video games and lacrosse type of guy. And he clearly underestimated your skills, not that you were great but much better than him. 

A few hands in and you were both sitting on your bed with Duncan down to his black Calvin Klein boxer briefs and you in a pair of purple lace boyshorts, a mismatched floral-printed bra, and tank top - 3 to 1. You couldn’t help but take in his toned porcelain frame, the sprinkling of freckles, how long his arms and legs were. All the times you had been around him but never really looked at him until now.

Even though he was losing, there was a smug smirk on his face that made you furious, him pouring more bourbon in both of your cups and challenging you to chug down the alcohol. You figured it’d be his downfall on the next hand. However, you only had a pair and he had 3 of a kind - there went your tank top.

The next hand came and pretty boy was stone-faced, eyeing his cards and then peering over them at you with an intense burning in his clear blue eyes. Revealing your hands at the same time, you were the victor. Duncan’s cheeks, nose, and tips of his ears turned bright red as he laughed. 

“C’mon, take them off…” You goaded, extending your hand and curling your fingers into the palm of your hand, gesturing that he pay up the price he had put on the line.

“You didn’t think I was serious, did you?” He rebuffed weakly.

“It’s never wise to be so confident that you willingly lose track of your adversary at a given time, Shepherd.” You countered.

“It’s poker, not war.” He rolled his eyes.

“Going into a courtroom underestimating the skill of another lawyer, a female lawyer at that, is akin to war.” Your own rich brown eyes narrowed at him, the intensity along with your hands on your soft hips proved you weren’t going to let him slide. “Kill or be killed. Strip or be stripped.”

Another roll of those eyes and a reluctant sigh later, he was standing up in front of you, grabbing the bottle of bourbon to drink directly from it, trying to buy some liquid courage.

“I don’t know why you’re being so shy about this, you’re the one that wanted to play this game. Plus…” it dawned on you. “You went out and streaked the quad with some of the first-years last night! Why do you care if you were willing to run balls-out with a bunch of dudes in the middle of the night?” 

He just glared at you in reply, so you took it upon yourself to get naked, as well to prove a point. Standing in front of him, completely nude, you gestured again for him to pay up.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen someone’s dick before. This is principal, you have to learn you can’t back down from a bet. And… it’s just a body. Flesh and fat and blood and bones…”

“Spare me your feminist body positivity bullshit, even guys feel self-conscious!” 

He took another swig and passed the bottle back to you before he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his underwear. Eyes averted to the floor as he quickly peeled the undergarment down and stepped out of them one foot at a time. A blush still glowing on his face, you now realized why… his rather impressive cock was semi-erect. Something you hadn’t been paying attention to earlier. 

“Oh, I’m enjoying this alright…” grabbing him close as he then crashed his mouth onto yours in a heated kiss that tasted of your favorite intoxicant and contained the promise of an epic dalliance to close out your college career with.


End file.
